When life gives you nuggets…
I suspect the question most frequently asked of writers is, “How do you come up with your ideas?”
I once heard a writer answer that question with an arrogantly dramatic, “How could I not?” which he followed with a wry smile suggesting his life was so interesting that brilliant ideas sprouted like dandelions in rich, fertile soil.
Although I routinely find myself knee-deep in stuff that’s not only rich and fertile, but also pungent and plentiful, I still have to sift through it several times before finding a nugget worth writing about. Unfortunately, once in a while, I get nothing but nuggets. Enough to dirty the shovel, but nowhere near a full load.
Still, by reading these nuggets, which I’ve collected in just the last seven days, you can get a decent idea of how fertile my field is.
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In an email sent by my Aunt JoAnne: “Kenny went to Foodland to buy a turkey because they were on sale for just 57 cents a pound. He doesn’t even eat turkey, but for that price, he wanted to get one anyway. So he calls from the store wanting to know if I wanted a whole turkey or just the breast. Since it would be just Mom and me eating the turkey, I figured a breast should probably do it, so I asked him how big they were. He said, ‘I don’t know. It looks like about a 38-D.’”
* * *
And this from an earlier email from my Aunt JoAnne: “Mom has been having a lot of health problems lately, which probably explains why she’s started reading the Bible CONSTANTLY. I think she’s cramming for finals.”
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During our monthly Girls Night Out at Rio Grande in Nitro last week: “I just bought the most wonderful little hand-held, battery-operated toy,” said Linda. “Do y’all want to see it?” Our shocked gasps were quickly exchanged for laughter when she reached in her purse and pulled out a heated eyelash curler. “You ladies have such dirty minds,” she said.
* * *
Former Nitro High classmate Leigh Shell shared some malapropisms collected from her own daily life.
“A young woman looked at me when I was having a complete meltdown and said, ‘You don’t have to go into Hispanics.’”
“Now Leigh Ann, you know we can’t prove those folks were married because as far as I know, they never constipated the marriage.”
“The performance kicked off a standing ovulation.” (I guess that was a Fallopian slip.)
“My doctor says I have a hyena hernia and now they’re going to have to clean out the corroded arteries in my neck”
“How do you spell African? You know, like the African blanket that your grandmother crochets to lay across the back of the couch.”
* * *
And this last, sent in by one of those “please-don’t-use-my-name” readers who swears the story is true. “My sister-in-law was wearing a brand new pair of pants the day of her appointment with her gynecologist. He was about to begin his exam when he noticed a little slip of paper stuck to her bottom. After reading it, he said, ‘I guess this means I don’t need to continue.’
What did the little slip of paper say?
“Approved by Inspector #23.”
